(Now She Smiles, Now She Frowns)

She graced us with a blossom breeze
of apple, pear, and cherry,
And waved the grass and rhubarb stalks
and tickled the gooseberry.

But now, she frowns a dagger frown
and turns our spring all upside-down,
shredding blossoms with forty lashes
of slashing, crashing rain.

The thirsty fields are puddle-topped;
We needed rain, but not a lot
of wind and cold as side dishes;
the kernels shiver in their rows
as they begin to rot.

Turn again, Spring--show your face!
and do not freeze the newborn kittens
and the hungry little honey bees
who cannot find their mittens.

lori fiechter
4-23-05

good, hearty, mid-western potluck food-- before we knew about Tex-Mex and Thai. But we still excel at desserts.

The Stomach Yawns

Bland food of the northern climes
to make the stomach yawn,
spice cupboards that groan with
salt and pepper,
paprika and celery seed
and little else.
(except the sweet spices
nutmegcinnamonclovesallspice
trotted out for pumpkin pie and gingerbread)

The taste buds nod off
and will not perk up
until chocolate.

We are not brave enough for balsamic vinegar,
too timid to try Thai,
we balk at basil,
grimace at fresh ginger
(ginger is for gingersnaps!)
and cannot quite risk the rosemary.
Cajun makes us cry.
Mention Szechwan and we reply, "Gesundheit!"

So potluck us with
generic comfort food that
everyone will eat,
safe and bland and amply-cooked;
We'll save room for dessert.
But that's another poem.

lori fiechter
4-22-05

Barely-Veiled Barbs

Smugly clever,
these grinning serpents,
flicking their forked tongues with a smile.

Deceptively languid,
Purring predators,
Jesting while flexing
their retractable claws,
toying with you:
Taunt and pull back,
tease and protest,
"all in fun"

but you feel the pretense
as they select another tidbit
from their cache of criticisms,
just the barb that will sting the most.

It's just a little game
to make them feel superior,
Just a childish little game.
You don't have to play.

lori fiechter
4-11-05

A February Kind of Sad

What kind of sad is it today?
It is the malaise of a
lifeless February thaw,
Of mud-colored mud
and boggish brown lawns.

The only color flirts
in dawn-tinged clouds
that dance behind the
bare-boned maples.
--fleeting color that brings
an ache of beauty and mortality
instead of joy.
It brings the tired jealousy of aging minds
towards trees that will outlive them.

A February sad is winter-cloaked
in shades of gray
with minor chords of blue.
It slopes towards melancholy
and tries to keep from falling headlong,
from racing, luge-like,
into that blackest of caves.

Hurry, March.
You are not a favorite,
but at least you are not February.
You are bluster and bluff.
I could use a bit of your energy--
If you would share.

lori fiechter
2-15-05

Slivered to Shavings

(Hebrews 11:39-12:1)

Hope under the hand-lathe,
slivered to shavings.
My, how thin she looks.
There's not much left to her now,
How can she stand?
Whatever is holding her up in this wind?
So frail and fragile and yet--
she just keeps holding on.
I feel like cheering.
I will.

lori fiechter
2-02-05

You are not low enough

You are low,
but not yet at the very end of yourself.
You are not yet low enough for Him to use.
You are weak,
but still holding on to the fraying threads
of your own strength;
You are wounded,
but not yet broken.
The batteries must be fully dead
before He can fully charge them.
It is not your weakness that hinders--
it is your perceived strength.

lori fiechter
2-02-05

This must be around chapter three by now in our mouse saga. I refilled the traps this morning with Swiss Cheese.

The Mouse that Mocks Me

Mocking mouse
that springs the trap, unharmed,
and leaves the Jif untasted.
Mocking muncher--

He nibbles chocolate grahams
on the countertop
while we sit, listening, at the table.
When trapped, he leaps nimbly to the floor,
zig-zagging past the grocery bags
of old newspapers,
slipping behind the safety of the chest freezer.
He's chortlng to himself now,
that mouse that mocks me.

lori fiechter
2-02-05

We are having house mouse problems--he will not take the bait (I assume the mouse is male. Surely an Eve-like female mouse would bite?). Perhaps a different brand of peanut butter? Or some really smelly cheese? We should be wise, like our house mouse.

Bait

(I Peter 2:2; Genesis 3:6)

I buy cat FOOD
but mouse BAIT.
One is to nourish,
the other to entice and kill.
So watch the hand that feeds you--
Is that food on your plate or bait?

lori fiechter
1-24-05

Cold Manna in the Morning

The blanket falls in fluffy, vanilla crumbs.
Hungry hedges--yews--
lift up their palms for more.
There is winter-storm plenty.
Cold manna,
Molded like Styrofoam around the
frozen car windshields and headlights,
Softening all the edges,
gentling burying the
Teflon skillet cat bowls.

And still it falls.

lori fiechter
1-22-05

Four days, four untouched traps. No droppings, no mouse. --Well, no. Just when you think it's safe to go barefoot in the dark...

Small Brown Fur

Sleepily flip on the bathroom light switch,
See small brown fur darting,
disappearing.
I squeal and balance both white, sport-socked feet
on the bathtub rim,
Intently peering with near-sighted, un-bespectacled eyes.

Tricksie rodent!
Determined, I gather all the scattered traps
from all the other rooms
and line the Jif-smeared Victor's up along the wall.

I turn off the light again and wait.
Did you hear something?
Will you go and check for me?
Small brown fur
gives me a large brown fright.

lori fiechter
1-22-05

Return of the Rodent(s)

Our fat, furry felines fell asleep on patrol;
They've been caught with their vigilance
down by their paws.
They let one intruder inside our domain
instead of inside of their jaws.

All our mousetraps are rusted;
Let's hope they still function;
Oh, we've too many places for rodents to hide.
I've discovered mouse-traces
Three shelves from the bottom,
I know that our mouse-fiend
has proved it can climb.

Evidence incontrovertible--
Little black mouse "seeds",
well-shredded newspapers,
and jagged holes in the corner
of the whole-grain oat sack.
But no one said anything,
no, nothing at all
until well after the fact. Then
"Yes, I heard something jump"
"I saw something run."
It was not imagination but
one mouse having fun.
(Well, I hope that our guest
is a party of one.)

lori fiechter
1-15-05

Hope Got Away

Hope got away--
Can you catch it for me?
I lost it in the dark and it escaped,
Or did I chase it off?

Hope was scrawny, thirsty, hungry,
and sadly neglected.
But I've made a home for it now
and bought a bag of hope-food.
I'd like to have it back.

No, I never thought to call it--
Do you think that it would hear me?
Would it even dare to come?
I am not hopeful.
But I am desperate,
and I will try.

"Here, Hope--nice Hope--please, please come back"

lori fiechter
1-15-05

Undead and Buried

I nailed down the blanket
over those lumps of pride, rejection, and fear.
They did not rest in calm respose.
Pride's antlers ripped right through the covering;
rejection and fear kept quivering and shuddering.
I buried the three of them instead.
They were not dead.
Fear had badger claws to dig itself out again.
Now what?
I cannot kill them.
I just can't.
I need Someone stronger to
kill them for me and carry them away.
Please do it now, Lord,
before I change my mind
again.

lori fiechter
1-15-05

Broken Crutches

(Philippians 3:3)

Sixteen pairs of broken crutches;
No matter--
I am not discouraged.
I will walk by own strength,
in my own self-confidence.
I bought my 17^th pair of crutches;
It is enough.

Lori Fiechter
1-19-05

Face It

(John 8:32)

Stop running. Turn around.
Face it!
Accept the Truth you see
And deal with it.
No pretending anymore;
No “cut and paste” revisions.

Ignore it if you please
But Truth is not going anywhere.
It frowns at your excuses and your
Self-imposed imprisonment
To pretty lies.

Face it;
Know it;
Let it make you free.

Lori Fiechter
January 19, 2005